That's adorable. You're adorable. In the end, we're all going to die, you know, and nothing will be adorable. Sometimes I believe in heaven so that everyone can be adorable. The man who shits on the subway steps? He gets to be adorable. That bitch who mocks how loud you laugh? She gets to be adorable. The pit bull, the vulture, the substandard tip: they too will be adorable. Even I will be adorable. We all will be adorable. Sometimes I believe if we all just believed, we'd all get to be adorable.

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Existentialism only appeals to me if Russian or irreverent. A feminized idiom of "adorability" seemed a fine way to air my absurdist underthings—petticoats of pettiness, faith in the frivolous.